


Personal Ass-istant

by maybegasoline



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, toe!penetration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:58:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybegasoline/pseuds/maybegasoline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For my darling Michelle, because she wrote me foot!porn even though we both think feet is the most disgusting thing in the world. ♥</p>
    </blockquote>





	Personal Ass-istant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> For my darling Michelle, because she wrote me foot!porn even though we both think feet is the most disgusting thing in the world. ♥

When Gerard breaks his arm on stage, they decide it's time to maybe take a little time out.

It's all Frank's fault, really; Gerard had been lying on his side on the floor, his right arm stretched out behind his head, belting out a particularly heartbreaking and dramatic part of a song, when Frank had decided to bunnyhop his way all over the fucking stage, crashing down on Gerard's arm with all his weight in the process.

So now Gerard's arm is broken in three different places, and he's forced to wear a cast for the next two months, and it sucks because it's itchy as hell and it really is typical.

But there must be at least _something_ decent in Frank, because when the decision is made that Gerard needs to go home, he immediately volonteers as Personal Assistant (capital P, capital A) and goes home with Gerard to stay there and take care of him.

(Lindsey is away on tour and has taken Bandit with her, for some fucking reason, and according to Frank, Jamia says that she and the kids can take care of themselves for a couple of months. MCR are supposed to still be on tour, after all.)

And all in all, it's kind of nice to live with Frank. He's neat and tidy, has the same taste in movies as Gerard, and feels guilty enough to wait on Gerard hand and foot. Though he's a terrible cook, so they have to order takeout every day, and it takes him a while to figure out how Gerard's espresso machine works. Gerard can't really help him because his left arm is basically as useless as the one in the cast, so he has to just sit there and try and guide Frank through the coffeemaking with his voice for the first couple of weeks, until Frank has gotten the hang of it.

Gerard loves the company, loves that he can be a diva bitch all he wants and that Frank only smiles and does as he's told, loves that Frank is so gentle and sweet and always seems to know what Gerard wants before Gerard has even realized it himself.

Gerard also kind of loves their sleeping arrangements, though that's a secret.

There is no guest room in his house, and Frank refuses to sleep on the couch. So the only sensible option was to let him sleep on Lindsey's side in their king size bed, and Gerard can't really complain to that. He can't, like, cuddle up to Frank at night, but it's still thrilling to know that he's lying just a few inches away.

(And sometimes, Gerard wakes up with a tattooed arm slung around his hips, and he never says anything. He just lies there and tries to breathe as quietly as he can, so Frank won't notice that he's awake.)

But while living with Frank is awesome and everything Gerard has ever wanted, there still is a slight problem.

Gerard is very frustrated. Sexually.

Because there is something about Frank that just makes Gerard want to tear his clothes off, lick him all over, kidnap him and keep him locked up forever so no one ever gets to see him but Gerard.

This has always been a problem, ever since the band started. But the thing is, before, there has always been some sort of distraction or obstacle. There was the drugs and the booze, and then there were girlfriends, or bandmates, or children, or parents. But now, suddenly they're all alone in an empty house, and no one will come around for _months_ so there's no one else Gerard can talk to, and Frank insists on walking around half naked all the time.

Gerard can't even really jerk off, because Frank is always around, no matter where he goes, and the only time he ever really is alone is when he showers, and then he has to wear a plastic bag over his arm. That kind of takes away from the sexiness.

So can anyone really blame Gerard for going insane?

There's this one particular time, when they're snuggled up on Gerard's couch watching '300'. Frank has decided to forgo a shirt, as usual, and Gerard rests a hand over the word 'SEARCH' on his hip and feels Frank's skin starting to sweat beneath his palm. On the screen, sweaty, half naked, tanned men in skirts are fighting with swords and knives, and Gerard doesn't know what he'd rather watch. (He'd always rather watch Frank, of course, but he thinks he can probably only get away with a tiny glance once in a while.)

Frank smells like he's been on stage for hours, and looks like it too; and Gerard doesn't mind. Not at all. Quite the contrary, actually. And when Frank finally shoves Gerard gently to the side and gets up from the couch, he's glistening with sweat and Gerard is, quite embarrassingly, hard.

"Ew," says Frank and makes a grimace, looking down on himself and sniffing his armpit, and Gerard thinks he's stupid, but he can't look away. "Need a shower. Will you be alright? You don't need anything?"

Gerard thinks that yes, thankyouverymuch, he actually _does_ need something, but he bites it back because it's nothing Frank would be willing to give him, anyway. He nods with a smile, and Frank grins and trots away to the bathroom.

(His shorts are riding dangerously low on his hips, and Gerard gets a quite good view of his crack as Frank turns his back to him and walks away. That's when Gerard decides he can't take it anymore.)

As soon as he hears Frank lock the bathroom door, Gerard rises from the couch and runs over to his bedroom, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. Not bothering with taking off his shirt, his sweatpants come off easily, and Gerard finally gets a hand on his cock, fisting it tightly.

(It doesn't really matter that it's his left hand. It makes it a bit more awkward, but he can manage.)

Gerard lets out a sigh in relief (because this is the first time in _weeks_ ) and leans back against the wall, conjuring up an image in his head of a Frank glistening with sweat, lips red, wet and open for Gerard's tongue, and he moans and swipes his thumb over his cockhead, jacking himself quickly, because he doesn't want Frank to find him like this.

The Frank in his mind grins and kisses Gerard hard (and in the real world, Gerard's mouth hangs open with a gasp), sliding a hand slowly down Gerard's back before finally prodding at his entrance -

And _oh. That's_ what Gerard needs.

His first instinct is to reach back with his other hand to press a finger inside, but he only gets to twisting his arm slightly back before he winces in pain and the cast prevents him of any movement.

So the next course of action is to use his _left_ hand instead, and Gerard moans loudly when he pushes two fingers inside at once, twisting them mercilessly to find his prostate.

He bangs his head against the wall as he fucks himself slowly, taking his time (and Frank in the next room is completely forgotten; now the Frank in his head is the only one that exists), until it dawns upon him that he really, _really_ needs to touch his cock.

Gerard has always figured masturbating is the reason humans have two hands. One to jerk, and one to fuck. It's the only sensible reason. But now, this time he can't do _anything_ , because one of his arms is, like, paralyzed, and the other can't do two things at the same time. And Gerard hates to choose things; he wants everything at once, and now he suddenly hates Frank for putting him in this position.

He pulls his fingers out and scrambles over to his bedside table, reaching into the drawer for his dildo. It's purple and vibrating and he has never ever let Lindsey borrow it, ("Get your own," he said angrily when she asked, so she did), and he smirks at himself and pushes it in swiftly, pressing the vibrate button.

And this might actually work, he thinks a second later, when he jacks himself again hard and feels the dildo vibrate inside of him. It doesn't quite hit his prostate; it presses firmly against a spot a few millimeters to the left of it, he can feel, and he groans in frustration and lets go of his cock again, reaching behind himself to adjust the angle.

He snaps his hips forward involontarily in pleasure when he succeeds in pushing the dildo into his prostate, and he grins and lets it go, wrapping his hand around his cock again and stroking firmly, hoping the dildo will stay in its place.

This works for about two seconds, before the vibrations start making the dildo slowly slide out.

"Motherfucker," Gerard curses under his breath and pulls it out again, going over to the bed. He crouches down, hovering slightly over it, and reaches back again to push the dildo inside, and when it's buried down as far as it can go, he tries to sit down on the bed and _wow_. The bed pushes the dildo even _further_ inside, somehow, and when Gerard does an experimental bounce on the mattress, the toy bounces inside him and it's _almost_ like riding ~~someone~~ Frank, Frank, always Frank for real.

Gerard grins and fists his cock again, jacking himself firmly because frankly, after all this hard work, he thinks he deserves to come. But after a few bounces and strokes, he realizes that while this is probably the best solution yet, it hurts his legs because the toy is sticking out a few inches from him, which means he can't really sit down. Instead he has to kind of crouch above the bed, but keep the base of the dildo steady on the mattress, and in order to do that he need to tense his legs and flex his muscles to keep himself from relaxing and really, it's a lot of work for nothing.

Gerard growls angrily and rises, pulling the toy out and throwing it to the floor in rage. The Frank in his mind is starting to get impatient, and while the fantasy of him riding Frank was a really good one, he needs something else and he needs it now. Frank is probably going to come out of the shower any minute now, and damn it if Gerard hasn't come by then.

He looks at his right hand sadly, sighing. The cast really is the worst thing that has happened to him in a while. Then he looks at his left hand, sighing again. It's wet and sticky and Gerard feels his ass contracting at the thought of getting it inside, and he just _needs_ something. _Anything_.

Gerard looks down to his feet, where the purple dildo lays sad and abandoned.

To his feet.

His feet.

Feet.

Feet have toes.

Legs don't have casts.

Legs can move in all directions.

Gerard likes to think he's actually quite flexible.

The thought hits Gerard like a train, and then it feels kind of like a car accident. You don't want to see it, but you can't look away. You can't forget it. Gerard frowns at his toes, he curls them and wonders, could it maybe...?

Then he shakes his head swiftly, as if to clear it, but his ass clenches hard again in protest, clearly saying, "Shove it in me, you wuss," and Gerard scowls because he doesn't like being called a coward. And he has never backed down for a challenge before, so why should he now?

This _is_ an emergency situation, after all.

It turns out to be quite tricky, actually. Gerard tries to stand on his knees, bending one leg backwards; and it doesn't work. His legs aren't long enough. Then he tries standing on one knee, and pushing the other leg up behind himself with his hand, but that doesn't work either. He tries to do backbends, and then he tries to lie down on the floor on his back, and then on his stomach, and then on his side, but nothing works.

He figures it probably would work if one of his legs had been a few inches longer than the other, or if he had had a really long, penis-shaped toe... And then he quickly rids himself of all such gross thoughts and focuses on Frank again, because his erection is seriously dying.

Finally, he manages to somehow wriggle a toe inside of himself by standing up, leaning against the wall with the arm that's in a cast, and forcefully yanking his right leg upwards with his other hand. As loose and prepared as he is, getting it in is quite easy once the tendons in his legs stop protesting, and when he lets go of his leg to grab his (now only half-hard) cock again, he wobbles unsteadily and clenches involontarily around the toe, locking all his bones in the leg so the foot stays in its place and nothing comes out.

He frowns, because this is really weird and the toe isn't anywhere _near_ enough, not in girth or length or anything, and the position really hurts his leg, but he tries to stroke his cock back into hardness again anyway, but he has to give up after a couple of minutes because it's useless. This really isn't hot at all, and Gerard would be a fool for even _trying_ to get off. He leans his head back against the wall, groaning tiredly, because is an orgasm really too much to ask?

However, the _real_ problem presents itself about thirty seconds later, when Gerard is tired of playing complicated kamasutra games with himself.

The real problem proves to be that appearantly, his body is now on strike and refuses to move another millimeter. Gerard tries to move his leg, and it doesn't budge an inch. His hole clenches tightly around the toe, as if saying, "Now that I finally have something in me, I'm not letting go," and Gerard _hates_ his betraying, cock-hungry body.

Even when he reaches back to forcefully tug the leg back into its proper place with his hand, he can't get it out. There's some sort of leverage problem, he guesses, because he needs to prop his leg up against something in order to pull it out, and he can't do that because the stupid thing is stuck in his fucking ass.

Seriously, Gerard's life? So hard.

Then, to make it even worse, he hears Frank call for him from the living room and fucking motherfucking fuck, he is done showering and now he's going to look for Gerard and find him eventually and see him like this and this stupid foot needs to come the fuck _out_!

There's an unpleasant stretch in his thigh, and he knows his leg is going to burn for weeks (and Frank will probably have to carry him around everywhere), and when the door opens, Gerard is ready to cry.

In the doorway stands Frank Iero wearing nothing but a towel around his hips, looking bewildered and flustered and a little confused. And wet. Especially wet. Gerard tries to twist his body so that Frank won't see his cock, but instead that only serves to give Frank a close up image of Gerard's ass, stretched nice and wide around his fucking _foot_ , and the bastard of course starts to laugh like a hyena.

"Gee," he croaks out hoarsely through heavy laughter, "what the fuck are you doing?"

"I," Gerard whines, blushing, "I couldn't fuck myself and jerk off at the same time," he admits, because there's seriously no better explanation to this situation than the truth.

Frank grins and raises an eyebrow. "So you decided to use your foot?" He tears his eyes away from Gerard, and sees the wet, glistening dildo on the floor. "Even though you had a perfectly good dildo? Geez, Gerard, you need to sort out your priorities," he laughs, and Gerard is a bit confused as to why Frank would find it perfectly normal that Gerard likes to take it up the ass (they haven't ever talked about it), and he bites his lip nervously and waits for the inevitable joke.

(Frank can't help but kind of stare in awe at Gerard's half-hard cock, or his ass, even though it really is a weird situation. He laughs just to make it seem like he's unaffected by Gerard and his nudity and not turned on at all, but his face softens when he sees how distressed Gerard actually is.)

"I can't get it out," Gerard whispers, eyes tightly shut, and he has never been this humiliated in his life.

Frank snorts with laughter and walks into the room, placing a comforting (and wet!) hand on Gerard's shoulder, smiling softly when Gerard looks up with confused eyes. "Do you need some assistance?" he asks, and Gerard nods warily.

Frank has two hands and can also go behind Gerard without twisting his body around to the point of pain, and Gerard figures that is why Frank is much better than him at getting toes out of asses. It just takes him a few gentle, reassuring strokes of Gerard's shoulder and a whisper of, "Relax," in his ear, his hot breath hitting the side of Gerard's neck, for him to grab the foot and slowly ease the toe out again. He holds on to Gerard's thigh and lets the leg down slowly, and when Gerard's leg is free, Gerard turns around quickly and crashes into Frank's arms, tears of gratitude in his eyes.

"God, you're my hero," Gerard says, and Frank smiles and wraps his arms tightly around him. (It's not every day he gets to be this close to a naked Gerard, so he will make the most of it.)

"Why the fuck did you do that?" he has to ask, and Gerard whines into his neck sadly.

" _You_ ," he says, as if that explains everything, and Frank frowns in confusion.

(He tries not to think about Gerard's still half-hard cock pressing firmly against his own through just a thin layer of cotton, but something stirs in his stomach and he can't fight the arousal.)

"What do you mean?" he asks, and Gerard shakes his head, burying his face in the crook of Frank's neck, absentmindedly licking off a bead of water, as if he doesn't realize what he's doing.

"You, no clothes, sweaty, shower, I just..." he trails off, but Frank has already understood. He doesn't have the time to say anything though, before Gerard continues, "I just really needed something inside me... And I couldn't do it, nothing worked," he sighs, and a grin starts to spread on Frank's lips.

"I could offer you my assistance with that too, though, I think," he points out, and Gerard looks at him in confusion. "You should have asked," Frank smiles, before leaning forwards and claiming Gerard's lips in a kiss.

And it takes a few seconds for Gerard to actually realize what's happening, but soon it all clicks together in his head and he moans, opening his mouth wide to let Frank in. His hands find their way to Frank's hips, and the towel falls to the floor, and when their erections _finally_ press together, they both moan. Frank breaks them apart with a soft laugh, reaching down to wrap a hand around Gerard's cock, stroking it back into hardness again.

"Did you even get off?" he wonders, and Gerard raises an eyebrow and shakes his head.

"No," he says with a soft gasp as Frank twists his hand over Gerard's cockhead, "it was gross."

And Frank flashes him a crooked smile and kisses him again, before attaching his mouth to Gerard's collarbone, sucking hard to leave a bruise.

"I'm glad," he murmurs into warm skin, "because I don't know if I could have dealt with you having a weird foot fetish. And this way, I get to join in on the fun too."

Gerard smiles as Frank presses butterfly kisses all over his chest, constantly moving downwards, until he reaches Gerard's rock-hard and leaking cock. He grabs Gerard's thighs, quirks an eyebrow with a smirk at him, before leaning forwards to lick a bead of precome off of the slit, and Gerard's eyes roll back into his skull in pleasure.

Frank takes his time, pressing wet kisses to every little inch of Gerard's cock, alternating with hard sucks and gentle licks, and it's the best blowjob Gerard has ever had. Frank looks so pretty like this, on his knees with his jaw stretched wide, and his lips are wet and red just like in Gerard's fantasy and it really is too good to be true.

One of Frank's hands moves from Gerard's thigh over to his ass, softly massaging one of his cheeks before sliding a finger teasingly down over his hole. Gerard tries to push back against his finger, and Frank drags himself off Gerard's cock to smirk at him.

"Frankie," Gerard moans when the tip of his finger presses inside, "please."

And Frank would be cruel not to give him what he wants, right? So he pulls his finger out and Gerard starts to protest, but before he has even finished his sentence Frank pushes two fingers in deep at once, swallowing Gerard's cock down again, and everything is okay.

Gerard doesn't know if it's just because it's _Frank_ , but everything feels much more amazing than it usually does, and Frank's guitar calloused fingers twist and turn perfectly inside of Gerard, pressing against his prostate every fucking time he thrusts in.

(Maybe Frank has a sixth sense for knowing where guys' prostates are? Gerard makes a mental note to ask him about it later.)

With the combination of Frank's extremely talented mouth, and his equally extremely talented fingers, it doesn't take long for Gerard to come undone. His head rolls back on his shoulders and he tightens a hand on Frank's shoulder when he comes, letting out a breathy moan of Frank's name. And Frank takes it all like a champ, swallows and swallows around Gerard until he's completely spent and his cock has softened, and only then does he pull his fingers out of Gerard's clenching hole and stands up.

Gerard doesn't know what to say, so he just kisses him. And Frank doesn't seem to complain; he only presses himself closer and pushes his hard cock into Gerard's hip, and Gerard shivers at the thought of the possibilities.

"My leg hurts," he complains when they break apart, and he takes a firm grip of Frank's hips, thrusting against him.

"Sorry about that," Frank manages to say through a moan, and Gerard grins and lets go of him, walking over to the bed and lying down, striking a suggestive pose and looking at Frank from under his lashes.

"I think I'll stay in bed all day," he suggests, and a smirk grows on Frank's lips.

"Yeah, I think that'll probably be best," he agrees. "You should probably take it easy, you don't want to overwork yourself."

And then he joins Gerard on the bed with a smile, and as their lips clash together they both know that overworking themselves is _exactly_ what they want to be doing.

**The End.**


End file.
